


Better

by greg-the-di (luvsev)



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsev/pseuds/greg-the-di
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the night, a stressed out Beca receives a text message from a number she doesn't recognise. She's unsure of where it will lead, but she's damn sure going to find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, but will be at some point. Italics, for the most part, are text messages.

It's two in the morning, and she really should be asleep: classes, sets for the Bellas, the internship, and Hell all await her. The latter is pure flawless perfection, but it's Hell all the same—teasing smiles and intimidation, looks she's certain she's not supposed to notice but does anyway. She's positive it isn't anything meaningful, but with a head full of confusion and worry for the future, she's not sure anymore.

She rolled onto her side, pulling the covers over her head, deliberately facing away from the phone on her cluttered nightstand, as if doing so will delay the coming morning. A light flickered on in the hallway, and the door knob gave a squeaking, stubborn jiggle, then weight shouldered into the door to force it open. Beca's phone vibrated loudly on the wood for nearly a minute before stopping, a blinking neon blue light taking its place. No way she was answering it this time of night.

“Still awake, short stack?” Amy called, bumping into the closet door with a muttered curse. Her shoes thumped against the wall; seconds later, the bed springs dipped, and she groaned in relief.

“Trying not to be,” Beca replied from under the covers.

“Did you know you've got a text? The indicator light is blinking.”

“It's probably just Jesse, and I'm not ready to talk to him.”

Amy turned onto her side and propped her head in her hand. “Why? It's been awhile since you've been broken up; it may be time to just say hello and clear the air... though at this time of night, it's probably drunk dialing.”

“Things, stuff, junk,” Beca muttered into the downy pillow, then flopped over to fetch her phone. She tucked it behind her pillow so the flickering light wouldn't bother her or Amy.

“That's not a real answer.”

“Yeah, I get that. I've got a lot on my mind, and he's some of it, well, half of it.”

“And the hot German blonde is the other.” Amy laughed, only half serious.

“What? No, dude. Get out of my head.” Beca chucked a spare throw pillow at Amy, which landed with a half-hearted thunk on the floor between their beds.

Amy laughed again and threw a pillow back which landed with a soft “oof” on Beca's face. She whispered something that Beca didn't quite catch. “Lesbihonest. She got under your skin, and you love/hate/want to fuck the smirk off her face.”

Beca moved her lips to refute her best friend, but no words or sounds came out. The girl was right, though she wasn't entirely ready to admit that, not out loud anyway. “ _Aaaaaaammmmy. Why?_ ”

“You're the one who's attracted to her... well, maybe not the only one. But still, you should deal with that, if you want to.”

“How would I even?” Did she really just say that? Of course she did.

“DSM has a show at TPAC in Nashville this weekend. You could go. Climb her like a tree.” Amy's phone buzzed, and she tapped at the screen for a moment.

Beca huffed, cheeks burning as she imagined just that. “Wait, that wasn't one of our venues. How did they? I mean, do I even want to know how you know where they're performing?”

“Mmm, probably not. But you should take the weekend without Red or any of us and just go. You need time to yourself and maybe get to know the blonde bombshell.” Amy reached for her phone again, its tiny screen illuminating the darkness and revealing the knowing smirk on her face. She tapped for another little while.

“I'll think about it.”

“There's a ticket reserved for you at will-call, if you decide to go. Which I think you should. Drive over Thursday night, come back Monday. You don't work on Fridays, and you could easily beg off Monday, with your classes too.”

Beca sat bolt upright. She hadn't told anyone about the internship yet except for Jesse. “Do you just know everything?”

“Pretty much. Better not to question it,” Amy quipped. “Check your phone, too. I heard it vibrate again. I don't want to hear that damn thing while I get my beauty sleep.” She laughed and rolled over to close her eyes, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“All right, you dork. I will, even though I really don't want to.”

“Ignoring a problem won't make it go away, short stack.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Beca answered, taking the phone from beneath the pillow and unlocking it. She quickly dimmed the screen and swiped over her messages. She'd been right: three messages from Jesse, who said he’d made a mistake, he missed her, and wanted to talk. Well, that was his problem. He'd ended it, not her. The next message was from a number she didn't recognize.

_I can fuck you better._

The person had probably texted her by accident, but she answered anyway.

_Pretty sure you have the wrong number._

Several minutes passed without a response, so Beca sank back under her covers and snuggled into the feather bed. With her eyes closed, she focused on breathing deeply, the scents of wildflowers and rain, exhaust from the city, and lingering stale alcohol from living on Sorority Row wafted in through the open window. Just as her breathing evened and sleep settled into her limbs, her phone buzzed. She didn't want to shake the blessed relief to respond.

Morning came all too soon, harsh sunlight cast on the two resting forms. Amy curled with a fluffy pillow between her thighs, deeply asleep and oblivious to the world, while Beca unwound from her ball in the center of her bed—pillows askew and nearly off the bed, navy blue sheets tangled between her legs, and her phone somewhere not immediately in view. She groaned quietly and scrubbed at her face to wipe the sleep from her eyes. Even a pot full of coffee wouldn't be enough to ease the heavy exhaustion from her limbs today. She sat on the edge of her bed, feet dangling a few inches from the floor, for the longest time just staring at the fat, fuzzy sheep on her pink pyjamas. Anything to put off the day ahead. She really needed a couple days off from life and all its responsibilities. Perhaps she would take the weekend.

She dragged her feet along the carpet to the door, opening it slowly as not to disturb Amy. She gulped down a cup of coffee, took a hurried shower, and rushed out the door. Only as she loaded the car did she bother to check her messages. Two more from Jesse, one of which was an apology that she promptly deleted before moving on to the reply from the stranger the night before. 

_I do not believe so._

Beca slid her laptop bag under the front seat and carefully placed two large travel mugs of steaming coffee into the cup holders.

_Then who are you?_

_What's the fun in simply telling you?_ The reply came just as the engine purred to life. 

_The fun would be in knowing._

_Boring._

Beca put her phone in the holder on the dash and pulled into early morning, bumper-to-bumper traffic... everyone rushing to work while she left early to give herself enough time.

_Not boring. If I know you, we can skip past all this and get to the fun._

After her shift at the record company, she opened her messages, setting her bag down beneath her desk. Just a lecture today, and an easy one at that. The professor—a tall man with greying curly hair and glasses too heavy, too dark for his face—always wandered in a little late, though no one ever seemed to mind.

_But this, darling, is part of the chase. And who doesn't enjoy a game of cat and mouse?_

Beca pursed her lips to bite back a laugh. She wasn't much on sports or games, but sometimes the thrill of the chase was as enticing as the endgame, as long as it was with the right person. Jesse had never done this. 

_Certainly not me._

_Play a game with me: figure out who I am, and I will illustrate why I will fuck you better._

_Do I get clues or do I just pull names out of my ass?_

The professor began to talk, and she took notes, ignoring the vibrating phone in her pocket despite the growing curiosity. Halfway through the class, the guy stopped talking and rushed out the double doors with a hurried apology. Perfect opportunity.

_So feisty. Now that I would like to see. You get three clues._

_Tell me who you are and maybe you'll get to see it._ Beca teased, a smirk upon her lips as her fellow students gathered their things to leave.

_Get it in two guesses, and I will send you a photo that's worth your effort._

_Ugh, not fair, dude._

_More than fair. Besides, what is life without challenge, a little mystery?_

_A boring one. What are my clues?_

_First clue: You know me, though not my name._

That could be anyone because she wasn't good with names unless she'd known them a while. Beca gathered her things and left, figuring the professor wasn't coming back. Hours passed while she mixed songs for work and for the Bellas, then started an essay.

_What, no response?_

_Because that clue is effing impossible. You could be literally anyone I've ever met and never put a name to._

_Are clues not supposed to be difficult?_

_Well, yes, but you do want me to figure it out, right?_

_I do, but I also want to torment you a little. You are fun to play with. Second clue: I have something of yours. ;)_

_If you're paying attention, that is a two-part clue._

Beca went back to the music program on her laptop to tweak a line that was bothering her when she suddenly had a horrified little thought: what if her mystery person was Jesse? And he'd borrowed someone's phone? In her dramatic way, she tossed the phone on the bed away from her desk to focus on the essay once more, but she didn’t get very far: her thoughts kept returning to the clue she’d been given:

Someone she knows who likes to play and has something of hers....

 

***

 

Late Wednesday night, Beca packed a small, grey duffel with clothing for the weekend (a dress for the concert in a bag to hang above the back passenger window), her books because there would be down time and it was a smart idea not to procrastinate on the projects due at semester's end, and made a hotel reservation close to the concert venue. Her phone buzzed against her hip.

_Figure it out yet?_

_Maybe. I have two guesses: one wild and not remotely possible, and the second I hope like fuck it's not because I..._

She took her bags to the trunk of her Volkswagen along with her work for the weekend, tucking everything neatly away, then hung the bag with her dress behind her seat. She'd have to go to class tomorrow and her internship, fuel up, grab snacks for the road because she'd get in late even without stopping for dinner. She kind of wished she'd be meeting someone there or bringing a friend. But Amy was right, it was better to take this weekend off, alone.

_I want to know both, for different reasons. I hope I am the former and not the latter, because otherwise that means this is... Nevermind. Tell me the first. I like wild guesses._

_You can't be... I mean, can you?_

_I don't know. Because you didn't tell me your guess. Just do it, you chicken. ;)_

_Please don't laugh if you're not._

_Pinky promise then._

_First, are you from DSM?_ Beca typed, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. This felt risky, dangerous even. Could be fuel for someone’s fire.

_You are cheating. Why am I not surprised?_

_Because you know me better than I expect. Fine… I really want you to be but it’s such a long shot. Are you The Kommissar?_

Beca threw herself onto her bed face down and hid beneath a wide fluffy pillow, as if she could feel the laughter and judgment from her mystery person. The phone buzzed from the other side of the bed, but she ignored it. Maybe after a few minutes of hiding she’d feel brave enough to read the answer. What if it really was Jesse? It didn’t seem like something he would do, but she’d been wrong about all sorts of things lately. 

She peaked at the awaiting message, her cheeks burning. 

_Yes, and no._

_If you are, how are you not? How is this even real? I took, like, the longest shot ever with that guess. It was more wishful thinking than an actual answer._ Beca paused a moment then added: _Then tell me, show me. For fuck’s sake. And I believe you owe me two things. Pay up._

A picture appeared on the screen. The woman before her looked very little like the Kommissar in her soft makeup, her golden halo of hair loose around her bare shoulders, dark-rimmed glasses that suited her face, and a smile that stole Beca’s breath. She saved the picture as her background--no way she wouldn’t want to look at her face as much as possible. 

_I also said I would make it worth your time._

Another photo appeared a minute later: the woman lay in the nude on a wide hotel bed, pristine sheets folded neatly off to the side. Her arm lazily draped across her breasts so only the soft curves were visible. Beca’s mouth fell open as her gaze travelled down her body, toned abs with a soft, tempting navel that she wanted to tease with kisses… her mons hidden from view behind a propped leg. The sight of the woman’s creamy thigh was enough to do her in. Her legs went on forever, ending in a pair of the sexiest, black strappy heels she’d ever seen. Beca couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. 

Beca typed before she even really thought about what to say. _You are so fucking beautiful, and you could do anything you want to with me._

_That is quite an offer, Tiny Maus. Are you sure?_

_I could have worded it better, but I don’t regret saying it. Gonna tell me your name, gorgeous?_

_Luisa. We can get better acquainted on a date._

_When? Where?_

_What are you doing this weekend?_

_Going to your concert at TPAC._

_Really? Tickets have been sold out for weeks. However did you manage?_

_Fat Amy got it for me the other night. She just does things that seem impossible and she knows everything. No lie. I’m starting to think she’s a witch._

_Or she’s… ficke… fucking my co-leader, Pieter. So when are you arriving? And where are you staying?_

_I’ll leave Atlanta around 5 tomorrow evening, possibly earlier if I skip classes. I should get in around 10 if I don’t stop for food. Booked into Sheraton Nashville Downtown._

_I shouldn’t tell you to ditch class, but ditch class. Come to dinner with me._

_Fuck yes. I mean, yes._


	2. Chapter 2

The room was entirely too warm to sleep, Beca determined after hours of tossing and turning and kicking blankets off the bed. Even the thin topsheet clung to her sweat-dampened body like a second skin. She tried opening the bedroom window further to allow in a draft, but it was an uncharacteristically still night, the air thick and soupy with unshed rain. She glanced at the alarm clock glowing like embers in the darkness, the illuminated numbers taunting her: midnight on the dot. It felt as though many hours had passed since she’d trudged up the stairs past curious glances from her friends. The heat had little to do with with her sleeplessness; she was nervous about the coming day, a date with someone who sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She’d never once been so attracted to someone or had so much to lose in one date. 

Rising from her nest of tangled sheets and pillows, she hastily plugged in an old box fan and propped it against a chair to woosh cool air on her face. She then snuggled back down into the sheets and checked her phone. A new message awaited her. 

_Are you asleep yet, Maus?_

_No. You’re too hot to sleep._ Beca imagined Luisa’s mellifluous laugh at her text. She always seemed to say what she was thinking, without filter, around the gorgeous woman. It was only around her that Beca became a stumbling, awkward mess. _...Fuck. I mean, I’m hot. Temperature wise._

_;} Yes, you are. Why are you still awake? You have a long drive in the morning._

_Because it’s hot in here, and I’m--_ Beca started to add that she was excited but decided to refrain. She could at least try to keep her composure over text. 

She tugged at the black camisole still clinging to her breasts. The cool air dried the sweat and stiffened her nipples. She licked her lips and smirked as she lifted the hem of her cami, her nipples still straining the fabric, to reveal her flat stomach. Once she found a flattering angle, she quickly snapped the picture and sent it to Luisa. 

A minute later, she received a picture of Luisa: her perfect mouth open in a soft “O”, her ocean-blue eyes glittering darkly beneath gently arched eyebrows. A flush of light pink on her cheeks extended to the long column of her neck and into the deep vee of her white t-shirt. 

_That is not nearly enough, Maus. Lift your shirt? I want to see you straining for me._

_Is that so? I thought you could wait until tonight._

_I want to devour you._

Beca swallowed hard and raked her fingers through her hair, heat pooling low in her belly. She tugged at her nipples to stiffen them once more, and a gasp tore through her body as she imagined Luisa’s tongue on her neck, teeth gently scraping. Beca pulled the camisole over her head and flung it into the room. With her messy hair hanging loosely in her face, nipples pebbled in the cool air, she bit her lip and snapped the picture. 

_Like this?_ Beca asked. 

_Do you have any idea of just how tempting you are? Or what I want to do with you?_

_If it’s anything like what I’ve been imagining when I close my eyes, I do._ Beca imagined kissing Luisa. Soft, slow kisses. Drugging kisses that lead nowhere. Kisses filled with biting fire that feel like lightning on her skin. 

_You’ve fantasized about it. Tell me?_

_I’d rather show you._ With a frustrated groan, Beca flushed and turned off the light. This woman was going to be the death of her, she just knew it. 

 

*** 

 

After a quick, unfulfilling breakfast (a cold slice of pepperoni pizza leftover from at least three nights ago and a steaming cup of strong black coffee), Beca grabbed her jacket from the closet and car keys from her desk, then headed down the stairs, nearly running into a pink-cheeked and sleep-rumpled Chloe. 

“Where are you going, Becs?” Chloe yawned, stretching her arms wide, pulling them behind her back before following Beca into the living room. 

“Oh. Just, out,” Beca offered non-committally, sidestepping her friend. 

“I figured as much, since you have your keys and jacket. So, where are we going after practice this weekend?” She asked way too happily for so bloody early in the morning. 

Well, shit. There went her hope for avoiding the inquisition. Beca bit her lip as she considered just how much of the truth to offer. She could tell the truth while omitting certain facts--besides, someone knew, just not Chloe. Omission couldn’t be counted as lying, right?

“Uh, well… I sort of have plans,” Beca offered, quickly shifting her weight from her left foot to her right, waiting to see how Chloe would respond. 

Chloe tilted her head at Beca, eyebrow raised. “After practice, right?” 

“I’ve cancelled practice for the weekend,” Beca said. 

Chloe said nothing for a full minute, standing a few feet away from the overstuffed couch and a very much asleep Cynthia-Rose, who had her knees pulled to her chest for warmth and comfort. She put her hands on her hips and stared at Beca in disbelief. “I can’t believe you! This close to World’s, and you’re cancelling practice? The competition is getting closer, and we are nowhere near prepared! We need to practice. And you need to work on sets,” her voice raised, tinged with anger and something else Beca couldn’t easily identify. 

Beca clenched her jaw at the insinuation that she wasn’t trying hard enough, when that’s all she did: try for the Bellas, try to pass her classes, try to please her parents and friends, try to produce music that said something--that meant something to anyone, try to get ahead at the record label where she was all but invisible, and try to make a life for herself because she wouldn’t have the Bella house to fall back on if she didn’t make it. Angry tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she swallowed the burning lump in her throat. Today was meant to be a happy day, a day away from all of this. 

“Are you really harping on me to work on sets? Because I am working my ass off.” Beca struggled to remain neutral, to keep her voice from shaking. She clenched her fist in the pocket of her favorite skinny jeans, the shock of pain from her nails digging into her palm reminding her of the group and what they were hoping to achieve. “We’re all doing our best, Chlo. We’re stressed and need a break. You do, too, even if you’re too stubborn to admit it.” 

Beca shouldered past Chloe, who stumbled a little, opened the front door and stepped outside into the first rosy-fingered rays of dawn, a cool breeze washing over her. Beca took a deep, cleansing breath and briefly shut her eyes to calm down. 

Chloe recovered and marched after Beca to continue their conversation-cum-argument. “I still don’t like it,” she said petulantly. 

Beca grimaced and clenched her fingers in her pocket once more. “Tough shit, it’s going to happen anyway. You’ll thank me in a couple months for forcing you to take a break when you’re neck-deep in preparation for the competition and deadlines for finals and everything else that comes with graduation.” 

Chloe hung her head in defeat, looking every bit like a kicked puppy. 

Beca frowned and fought the urge to hug her. 

“You’re probably right,” Chloe begrudgingly admitted. 

Beca nodded tightly. Of course she was right. They didn’t have to work themselves into the ground when they had no other pressing performances until the World’s--being stripped of their national tour was a blessing in disguise, allowing them to focus on life after college while affording them the opportunity to travel abroad to compete on a world stage… Even if they didn’t win, it could launch careers, not to mention allow them to make connections they never would have otherwise. “I’ve got a lot of driving ahead of me…”

Chloe cleared her throat and attempted a lighter tone,“Where are you going?” 

“Out of state.” There, nice and simple. Chloe didn’t need to know anything more than that. Amy could fill in the blanks if necessary. 

“But you have classes.” 

“That I never skip. Nothing is due for weeks and the things that are are nearly complete. Are you done now, Mom?” Beca added, sarcasm dripping like poison in her tone.

“Ouch, Becs. No need for that.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m tired and stressed, and I really shouldn’t take it out on you. But you’re not helping things by giving me the third degree. I’m an adult and can take care of myself.” 

“Okay,” Chloe said, shuffling back into the house in her fluffy bunny slippers, head hanging glumly. 

“Try to have fun this weekend; no surprise practices either!” Beca waved, calling after her. She remembered a time in her sophomore year, near nationals, when Chloe had woken them all at the crack of dawn to do a two-hour, military-style workout followed by a four-hour practice without breaks. Never ever again.

Beca sat in the silence of her car without turning over the engine or searching for the playlist she’d curated for the trip or even checking to see if she had everything she needed. The run in with Chloe jostled her already frayed nerves, and she needed a breather before driving. Being on the road while angry was a bad idea. While sitting in the cool silence, she fired off a text to Luisa; she had a feeling the woman was an early riser. 

_Leaving early. I should be in the city around ten, if I’m lucky. Will you be practicing then?_

_I have practice from noon until four. If you get in earlier, we can have breakfast together. Were you able to avoid Red, like you wanted?_

_No one can avoid Chloe. She’s like an excitable puppy that demands attention. The confrontation was ugly, but it’s over._ Beca closed her eyes and breathed deeply to shake off the bad mood along with the dull ache in her temples. After a moment, she dug through the khaki messenger bag she’d tossed in the passenger seat earlier and found a small bottle of aspirin; she took two pills with a swig of water. 

_:( Sorry. We can talk about it when you get in. I’d rather you not think about it while driving._

_Yeah, me either. I’m okay though. I’ll text you when I get in town._ Beca started her car, and it came to life with its usual purr. 

_Drive safely, Maus. I want you here in one piece, and not just because I want to have my wicked way with you later._

_Dude, you can’t just say things like that to me while I’m driving. Because now I will be thinking about fucking you all morning._

_I want you to think about me fucking you so hard you can’t walk. I want you to think about riding my face as you cry out._

_Fuuuucckkk._

_Safe travels, meine Maus. ;)_

Beca swallowed hard while she reread the last few messages, imagining Luisa spread beneath her, naked and so responsive. She briefly wondered if Luisa would be the silent, intense type, or all breathy moans and whispers, or secretly submissive, or if she would be vocal and dominant. The things she would do… She silenced her phone and put it into the holder on her dash, then she pulled out into the quiet streets. She passed a couple early morning joggers and a few other cars. But for a little while, it was just her in the stillness, soft music playing as she drove, soothing her. 

The drive, mostly uneventful outside of a little traffic jam from two minor accidents and a few detours, took less than the just-under-four hours she’d mapped out. She arrived downtown Nashville at 9:20 AM. 

_I’m in Nashville, finally._

_You are early, Maus._

_I may have sped some of the way because I have a hot date with the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on._

_Naughty Maus. Whatever shall I do with you?_

Beca checked her appearance in the rearview mirror: faint blue half-moons under her eyes, hair falling from its once neat ponytail into her face. She took her hair down and smoothed it back. She didn’t look so bad, really, only a little dishevelled. _Mmm, take me to bed?_

 _Later tonight. We don’t have nearly enough time right now. We’ll need days… months… years._

Beca blushed profusely and bit her lip, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering madly, threatening to fly out of her mouth. _Uhhh, years?_

_Yes. does that scare you?_

_Honestly? It does a little. But in a good way. So, uh, where do you want to eat?_ She swallowed thickly. “Smooth transition, Mitchell,” she whispered to herself. 

_I do not know many restaurants in the US, and definitely none here. I would offer room service, but we would never get to the food._

_Damn. I’m hungry._ Beca contemplated possible locations to eat breakfast. She’d been to Nashville a bunch over the last decade, thanks to her parents divorce. Her mother moved to Nashville not long after and insisted Beca visit during the holidays and for a few weeks each summer. _Fuck it, I mean the double entendre. But we should eat more than each other… for strength and stuff._

_I…_

_You’re imagining it, aren’t you?_ Beca remembered a cute little restaurant that she visited with her mom and a sweet lady, Kath, who would later become her step-mother. The Red Bicycle was popular with the locals and was one of Kath’s favorite places because they served great breakfast food and coffee to die for. She thought perhaps Luisa would like it, too. _Let’s eat at the Red Bicycle, in Germantown._

_You chose that on purpose to make me think about getting you between the sheets, did you not?_

Beca hadn’t chosen it for that reason, but since it had an unintentional yet desired effect, who was she to deny it? _Turnabout is fairplay--you had me thinking about it on the drive over. Do you want me to pick you up and take you to eat?_

_Yes. Meet me in front of the hotel in ten minutes, liebling?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut and the resolution of the story.

A cool evening set in as the sun sank into the horizon, the night sky turning purple and navy as the stars winked to life. Beca and Luisa sat at an elegant table laid in pristine white linen and fancy silver-lined plates by a magnificent window that looked out to a courtyard filled with trees and fairy lights. The restaurant, slightly too warm, was cozy--the seating mostly booths with couples sat close in the candlelight, their conversations a calming susurration. 

They’d been seated immediately and offered a bottle of wine while they waited for their food. Their waiter, an eager young lad with green eyes, dark hair, and deep dimples poured them each a goblet of wine after he’d taken their orders. A few minutes passed in silence, each of them taking in the other and sipping at their drinks. 

Beca broke the silence first, her gaze lingering on Luisa’s svelte form in a low-cut, sapphire blue dress that drew attention to her sparkling eyes. “So, where did you grow up?” 

Luisa set her goblet down to the side of her plate before answering. “I spent the first half of my childhood in Northern Germany at my parents’ estate.” 

“Why only the first half? Did you move or did something happen?” worry crept into Beca’s voice, and she chastised herself for it. 

“Not to worry, Maus. I am close with Mama and Papa, now. We were not when they sent me to boarding school in Denmark. I was bitter about leaving friends and family. The adjustment period was difficult, but I recovered, made new friends, found passion and livelihood in a cappella.” Luisa took another sip of her wine and added wistfully, “Though it was a positive experience that taught me a great deal, I would have liked to be present for the birth of my two younger siblings who were born during my last year of boarding school.” 

“Has it been hard to spend a lot of time away from them?” Beca asked. 

Luisa nodded. “Especially during my university days, but I try not to dwell on it. The twins are young, and I do not get to see them as much as I would like, though we all make the effort to be close.” She cleared her throat and changed the topic to focus on Beca. “What has your life been like? Do you have any siblings?” 

Beca laughed nervously, shifting in her seat. “Early life was complicated due to my parents divorce. I split time between Nashville with my mom and a woman named Kath, who later became her wife, and a tiny town in Indiana with my dad. When he finished his Ph.D and met Sheila, I went to live with my mom full-time. I’m not close with my Dad, for a lot of reasons, but maybe we can change that.” Beca shrugged. “He’s not super happy with my career choice, but he realizes I’m an adult and can make my own decisions.” Beca thought for a second. “You asked if I had siblings; Sheila is pregnant and due in July. I think.” 

“You have time, and soon, there will be a sibling with whom you can form a relationship. Are you close with your mother and her wife?” 

“Not for a long time, no. Bitter, party of one here,” Beca joked, and Luisa grinned. “I grew to like Kath because she’s like a ray of sunshine, effortlessly soothing everyone around her. It’s hard not to like her. I was a surly teenager and made her work for it--gods, sometimes I wish I could go back and slap myself for how I treated her. She never stopped trying for me though, no matter how angry and sad I was. She’d shake it off and invite me out for coffee or shopping or whatever, and we’d sit in silence. Later, when we were comfortable around each other, we’d stay out way past my bedtime, laughing and talking and having fun. She just let me be me, which neither of my parents were keen to do. Kath has helped immensely and soothed relations between my parents--can you believe they’re actually friends now? It’s weird, but it works.” 

“My grandmother is like that, too. Perhaps one day…” Luisa didn’t finish the sentence, instead reaching for a glass of water with ice cubes half melted and floating in the top. She took a long draught from it. 

Beca wondered what Luisa was going to say, but didn’t ask her if she wanted to meet her mom and Kath someday. That would be putting the cart before the horse. This was only their second date. 

“You said your father doesn’t support your career choice, what is it you hope to do once you graduate?” 

“I’ve always wanted to be a music producer. I’d never planned to go to college and get a degree; instead, I wanted to make a name for myself as a DJ first.” 

“Why did you not want to go to college?” 

“I thought it was a waste of time when I could be learning hands on and refining the skills I already had. But now, I don’t for a second regret going to college and double majoring in Business and Music. I’ve met a lot of people, some of whom have changed my life and taught me to open up, I’ve done things far outside my comfort zone, and learned about myself in the process.” Beca unfolded the napkin swan that sat in front of her plate and laid it in her lap to give her hands something to do. 

“University is good for that. It was for me, too. I came out in my second year--the stress of classes and the growing success of DSM was too much; I became leader that year as well.”

“That is a lot of stress for one person. I can relate, having taken the lead from graduating seniors at the end of my first year. It was easier for me because I wasn’t super stressed over coming out. I wasn’t even out to myself yet.” 

“Are you? Do your friends and family know you date women?” Luisa leaned forward a little to gauge Beca’s reaction. 

Beca clenched the napkin in her hand and tried to quell the rising butterflies in her stomach. “Well… you’re the first I’ve actually dated. But I have a feeling most of them know anyway--I was an awkward, gay mess the first time we met. Pretty sure they all caught me staring at your lips.” Well, shit. She hadn’t meant to say that. “Amy knows and encouraged me to come see you this weekend. Is it a problem that I’m not out?” 

Luisa smiled sweetly and patted Beca’s hand. “No. You will tell them when you are ready and only if it is safe for you to do so.” 

Beca smiled weakly. “I’m still not super open about things, but I don’t plan to keep our relationship a secret.” Beca fell silent for a second, then hastened to add, tripping over her words, “I mean, that is, if we--”

Luisa raised her eyebrow and pursed her lips to keep a smirk at bay. “Relax.” 

“Um, okay. Sure. Anyway. You are quite dedicated, and it shows--you’re perfect. I mean, your team is perfect. Fuck. Your performances are just out of this world.” Beca bit her lip to keep from adding more.

Luisa gazed at Beca’s lips, then said, “Yours are not without merit, darling. You are quite stunning as well.” 

Beca blushed scarlet at the compliment. “Um. I guess. The team is just having, I don’t know what to call them. Growing pains?” 

“You don’t connect the way you use to, and since yours is a close-knit group, it affects your sound,” Luisa said simply, her attention shifting to the approaching waiter. He carried two plates piled high with steaming pasta on a huge platter along with a wedge of parmesan cheese. 

Beca’s stomach gave a loud growl as she smelled the food before them. The waiter smiled brightly at her and offered cheese, to which she declined, and the boy bowed himself away. 

How did you know that?” Beca asked, taking a forkful of pasta and a piece of chicken, hovering it under her nose to sniff before eating. It smelled delightful. Garlicky, creamy goodness. 

“There are videos of your performances on the internet. DSM researched you. It’s smart to know your competition.” 

“Please, like we’re any competition for you,” Beca said with a tiny huff. 

Luisa raised one perfectly arched eyebrow before trying her food. 

Beca tried not to focus on the sensual way Luisa slid the fork full of creamy garlic linguine with shrimp into her mouth, her lips just caressing the tines, or the way her eyelids drifted shut as she uttered an indecent moan at the flavor on her tongue. 

“You chose well, Maus. The pasta is delicious,” Luisa said between bites, licking her lips. Whether she was trying to clean the sauce from her mouth or arouse Beca wasn’t immediately clear. 

Beca took a sip of wine, her mouth suddenly very dry. “Um, it’s… yeah.” 

Luisa set her fork down on her plate for a moment and caressed Beca’s hand. “You are suddenly very distracted. Can I help?” 

“I can’t take my eyes off of you in your low-cut dress. And that moan. Gods,” Beca said, swallowing thickly as Luisa’s fingers stroked her palm, electricity flowing through her. 

Luisa smirked, her eyes darkening. “What would you like to do about my dress?” 

Beca slowly licked her lips and leveled a heated gaze at Luisa. “I think you know what I want.” 

Luisa laughed throatily, and Beca swore it was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard, excluding the moan from moments before. “I am sure I know, but I want you to tell me. In detail.” She raked a trim, perfectly manicured fingernail along the inside of Beca’s wrist with a little pressure and watched Beca’s cheeks flame scarlet. 

“Here? Now?” Beca said a little too quickly, in too high a voice. 

“Are you scared?” Luisa’s voice dropped an octave. 

Beca shivered, thinking about how much lower her voice would drop when aroused. She bet anything that Luisa knew how to turn someone on with her voice alone. She swallowed hard. “No?” 

Luisa leaned in close and mouthed, “Prove it.” 

Beca swallowed again, then said, sounding much calmer than she felt, “After you answer my question. As one of the clues you gave, you said you have something of mine. What is it?”

“Just this.” Luisa cupped Beca’s cheek, then brushed her lips lightly over hers. 

Beca gasped at the contact, that first soft sweep of warm lips, gentle and sweet, then the brush of tongue against hers. Fireworks burst behind her eyes as they kissed languidly. Luisa tasted of warm cinnamon and something bright, like cherries. 

Luisa ended the kiss by degrees until their lips were a breath apart and their foreheads rested against each other’s. 

“That’s what you had of mine? I don’t believe I’ve ever had a kiss quite like that,” Beca said softly, gazing at Luisa’s kiss-swollen lips and glittering, heavy-lidded eyes, the pink in her cheeks. She licked her lips, wanting nothing more than to return for another kiss. 

“I wanted to kiss you the first time we met. And now, I believe you were going to tell me what you want to do.” Luisa dove back into her pasta while Beca thought. 

Beca took several more bites while she considered what to say. Images of what she desired flashed in her mind: intoxicating kisses while she undressed Luisa, her hands settling just above her shapely bottom, to fucking her against her hotel room door because she couldn’t wait to get her into bed. She wondered what Luisa would like: fast and rough with orgasms that tore through her trembling body, or a slow burn with lingering kisses on her fingertips, the insides of her knees, the hollow of her throat? Or would she like to be teased until she couldn’t wait any longer?

Beca felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Continuing that line of thought was dangerous at the moment. Taking a forkful of chicken, she said unevenly, her voice far deeper than she intended, “What I really want is to bite your lips and swallow every little whimper and moan you make for me.” 

Luisa looked up from beneath her eyelashes and gazed Lustily at Beca, her eyes roving from her face to her breasts, then back to her lips to indicate what she wanted. She briefly looked around the dimly lit restaurant at the couples ensconced in their booths or around tables; no one watched them. She extended her leg beneath the table so that it brushed Beca’s before she rubbed her foot up and along the inseam of her dark skinny jeans to her thigh. “Is that all?” she purred. 

Beca paled considerably and took a deep breath to regain her composure. She sunk in her seat a little to give Luisa better access to the building heat and throbbing in her center. “Not even close. I’d still rather show you.” 

“And I would rather you keep talking.” Luisa slid her foot a little further in, encountering heat and rounded, lovely thighs. 

“You keep that up, and I doubt my words will make any sense at all,” she said under the breath stuttering in her chest. 

Luisa laughed again, teasing at the heat. “All from this, darling? Are you that excited?” 

Beca pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “You sound so innocent. We both know you’re not. You know exactly what you’re doing and the effect it has.”

Luisa shrugged innocently and attempted to hide the satisfied smirk curling at her lips. “I’m not doing anything. But, by all means, you should continue.” She darted her tongue out to moisten her lips. 

Beca focused on Luisa’s tongue dragging across her bottom lip. She imagined Luisa kneeling before her, her lascivious gaze trained on her features as she dipped her tongue between her folds. She willed herself not to give into the temptation already between her thighs. Beca lightly teased Luisa’s firm calf with her fingertips. She was sensitive here, and she wondered if the other woman might be too. She smirked at Luisa, whose teeth sunk into her lower lip as she breathed unevenly. “I want to take you back to your hotel room, undress you between biting kisses, and tease every inch of your skin with my tongue and teeth until you’re so worked up you’re begging for it. How does that sound?”

Beca’s lips parted as she sucked in a breath, watching Luisa flush prettily--pink tinging her cheeks and creeping into her decolletage. 

“I think we need the check.” Luisa cleared her throat, withdrawing her foot from Beca’s lap and sitting primly to squeeze her thighs together. She flagged down the server who handed her a black billfold for her credit card. Luisa glanced briefly at the bill, then took her wallet from beside her to withdraw her card and a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the money, darling. I’ll take the card once you’ve ran it.” 

*** 

Once they drove away, Luisa slid her hand along Beca’s thigh and teased between her legs, saying with a purr, “It was so sexy when you were talking dirty for me where anyone could hear you. It made me want to fuck you right there. I need to know what it feels like to have your cunt squeezing my fingers as you gasp my name over and over.”

“Fuck,” Beca gasped, pulling into the hotel parking lot. She killed the engine and cupped Luisa’s jaw, kissing her--the kiss all teeth and tongue and biting fire as they battled for dominance. 

Luisa growled low in her throat and pulled away to press open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, then lick the shell of her ear. Beca whimpered when Luisa suckled the pulse point in her neck, the bite just hard enough to send a spark of lightning down her spine that made her shiver. She tangled her hands in Luisa’s silky hair, arching into the fiery path of kisses. 

Luisa hastily unfastened the first few tiny buttons of Beca’s shirt, kissing every inch of Beca’s exposed skin as she went. She moaned appreciatively as she encountered the lacy black bra and the gentle curve of Beca’s breasts, palming them through the material. 

“Mmm-maybe,” Beca said, her voice rough. 

Luisa pulled back, her vampy lipstick smudged. “Mmm, yes?”

“As much as I love fucking in a car, I want you spread beneath me and writhing, or to sit on my face. We can’t easily do either of those in this car.” 

Once they were inside Luisa’s hotel room with the door locked and their shoes in a heap by the bookshelf, Beca kissed Luisa soundly, nibbling her lips and drinking her in. She unzipped the dress for Luisa to step out of, sweeping the long blonde hair off her shoulders to press kisses down the back of her neck and between her shoulderblades. “I wondered if you’d be this soft everywhere,” she murmured. 

Luisa chuckled darkly as she stepped out of the dress, leaving it to pool on the plush, grey carpet. “You have no idea, Maus.”

Beca couldn’t help but stare at Luisa’s nude form in the muted golden light--her breasts perfect, the nipples dark and pebbled from the cool breeze drifting in through the opened window. When she reached out and cupped them, running the pads of her thumbs across the tiny peaks, Luisa breathed in shakily, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. Beca tweaked them playfully and leaned into drag her tongue across each, revelling in Luisa’s low moan and how her fingers tightened in the hair at her scalp when she suckled each. She skimmed her fingertips in the valley between her breasts and down her flat stomach, the skin so smooth and soft, but like steel too. The muscles jumped beneath her touch, and Beca smiled. She paused briefly to trace the delicate material of her underwear; those too were the color of her dress and barely more than a scrap of fabric. 

Luisa parted her legs to allow Beca better access, shivering at the too light touch just above the band of her underwear. She took Beca’s hand and rested it on her inner thigh. Her mouth fell open when Beca gently pushed the fabric aside and traced her slick labia with a fingertip. “More?” Luisa whined as Beca teased. 

“More of what?” Beca asked, teasing her entrance with a fingertip. “Do you want it like this?” She rubbed tight circles with two fingers just over her clit. “Or more like this?” She lightly scraped a fingernail over her clit and rubbed harder, faster. 

Luisa cried out, trembling, her knees buckling beneath her. “Oh, god.” 

Beca retained the leisurely pace, thrusting two fingers from her other hand into Luisa, curling them in a “come hither” motion in time with her fingers circling around her clit. “You gonna come for me, gorgeous?” she asked, gazing up at Luisa’s face--her eyes were closed and pleasure etched in her features. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” Luisa keened, her walls clenching Beca’s fingers. “B-Beca,” she said, her voice raw and shaky. 

Beca slowly withdrew her fingers, smirking as she licked them clean. She suckled the last little bit from her forefinger, chuckling at the lust in Luisa’s gaze. 

Luisa pulled Beca up for a deep kiss, her tongue teasing the roof of her mouth and along her teeth; she then roughly bit her bottom lip, swallowing Beca’s whimper. She tugged at the buttons on Beca’s shirt, but they stubbornly remained in place. With a little grunt, she yanked them apart, buttons flying everywhere. 

“Hey, that was new!” Beca protested, though she was not angry. In fact, it was a turn on to be so desired. Arousal, like simmering heat, pooled low in her belly as Luisa knelt before her to unfasten her jeans. 

“I will buy you another,” Luisa replied, tugging the zipper of Beca’s jeans down with her teeth, then peeled the material off of her. She teased at Beca’s labia through the fabric of her damp thong, then pressed a kiss to her mons. 

Beca gasped, threading her fingers through Luisa’s hair as she lowered her underwear. “Yesss,” she hissed. She’d always wanted someone to take her like this, while she struggled to remain standing with her legs parted and trembling. 

“You are so wet for me, liebling. So eager.” Luisa rose to her feet again, leaving Beca to heave a tiny sigh of disappointment that this particular fantasy was not to come to fruition. She walked them to the bed, her hands working a particular magic along Beca’s breasts, lightly twisting her nipples. 

By the time they reached the bed, Beca was mewling and her cunt was throbbing, her clit moving of its own accord. She was so close. 

“Are you going to come from this?” Luisa purred, pushing Beca back onto the mattress with a light shove, following her moment later to continue her ministrations.

Beca’s eyes fluttered shut as Luisa’s lips closed over her nipple, tugging it with her teeth and suckling. “I-I,” she let out a ragged breath. “Y-yes.” Her hips lifted as she squirmed to gain some friction. 

Luisa nibbled at the little rosy nipple again, thumbing over the other. Beca came with a tiny whimper. 

“I never knew I could do that,” Beca said, raking her hair out of her face, some of it had stuck to her forehead. 

Luisa lifted Beca’s leg to nibble along it to the inside of her thighs. “If I can get you to come from that, just imagine what I am going to do next,” her voice dropped lower as she teased at Beca’s opening.

Beca whimpered as Luisa slid one long finger into her, thrusting in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. “Luisa, please?” she begged, her voice high and needy. 

Luisa smirked, adding another finger but continuing to tease: four slow thrusts, stop. Faster for a minute. Stop. Repeating until Beca was right at the edge of a spectacular release then stopping, working her into a frenzy of desire. 

Beca cried out, needing more friction, more anything. She writhed on the bed, hips arching as she clenched her fingers in the sheets. She tried to regulate her breathing and closed her eyes, then she felt something new: Luisa’s fingers curled into her in the same motion she’d just used, and the flat of her tongue brushed Beca’s clit, the pressure just enough. “Oh. Oh my fucking gods.”

Luisa chuckled against her clit, sending vibrations through her body, then suckled it. That combined with the thrusts were enough to send her keening over the edge, her heel surely digging into Luisa’s back. 

*** 

Later that weekend: 

After the concert and two more dates, they lay naked in bed, legs and arms tangled around each other in the morning sun. 

“What’s next?” Beca asked, swallowing the lump in her throat. They had a promising beginning and she hated to potentially ruin it by asking so soon, but she needed to know how to proceed. She didn’t think it possible to return to the grind and pretend that something crucial hadn’t changed, that her world view was the same, that this weekend with Luisa never happened. 

Silence fell over the two of them for several moments until Luisa gave Beca a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “What I hope is next is that you come to Germany to spend the summer with me, your girlfriend?” There was a quavering note of apprehension in her voice. “I cannot promise that it will be easy for us, but it will be worth it.” 

Luisa smiled at her so brightly that it stole her breath. And just like that, Beca had a new beginning, a hope that things would be better.


End file.
